Round The Wheel Again: The Rebirth
by SGCbearcub
Summary: REPOST: Are we the sum total, not just of our choices and experiences in this life, but the sum of all the choices we have ever made?


Title - "Round The Wheel Again: The Rebirth"  
Author - Wintersong  
E-Mail address - wintersong .ca  
Website - .  
Rating - R (violence by minors)  
Category - S  
Summary - Are we the sum total, not just of our  
choices and experiences in this life, but the  
sum of all the choices we have ever made?

Disclaimer: They belong to CC and 1013.

Author's Notes: This is not really babyfic.  
It's more of a pre-colonization set-up story.  
I really liked the concepts introduced in The  
Field Where I Died (I most emphatically  
believe however, that Melissa was simply  
Mulder's wife in that past life...not his  
soulmate).

This is the first part of a trilogy series  
called Round the Wheel Again, but can be read  
as a stand-alone.

Hope you like it! :o)

The aliens had left William behind. They had left  
him alive.

He seemed human.

All of the genetic tests on Billy Miles had come  
back perfectly normal. Perfectly healthy.

Perfectly human.

Perhaps the truth was not that William Scully was  
not what the aliens were looking for.

But that he was.

Who can fathom the motives of an alien race? An  
alien agenda? Did anyone even know how many  
competing factions fought in this convoluted cold  
war? How many sides existed in this battle for  
Planet Earth?

Deep down, the one thing that Mulder could never  
say to his partner was the fact that he feared  
that the aliens had not come to take the child...

...but to bear witness to his birth.

As he stared into the blue eyes of a child who  
might be the son of his body and was now and  
forever the chosen son of his heart, Mulder  
feared that the alien virus was only the first  
step in a larger mechanism. That somehow, with  
the birth of this child, the real battle had just  
begun.

There were those who watched the child from the  
shadows. Men who expected great things, the  
genesis of a new race perhaps, or the salvation  
the old. However, despite early signs of  
increasingly voracious intelligence and physical  
dexterity, the men in the shadows were  
disappointed. None of the skills evidenced showed  
anything beyond that which he could have  
inherited from his parents. Intelligence, memory,  
spatial abilities and muscular control were all  
well with the ranges expressed by the parents.  
Nor did the child seem to possess any of the  
psychic abilities one would have expected from  
such a mix.

In fact, the boy showed all the psychic ability  
of a rock.

Worse, far worse, was the litany of childhood  
illnesses the boy seemed to fall victim to. If  
there was a cold virus, he caught it. If the  
measles swept through the neighborhood, he got  
it. He coughed, sneezed and shivered his way  
through the first five years of life so  
thoroughly introduced to the panoply of human  
ailments, that his mother started buying tissue  
boxes in bulk and kept an open account at the  
all-night pharmacy down the street.

What they failed to see...perhaps because Mulder  
and Scully took great pains not to tell them, was  
that this apparently compromised immune system  
was nothing of the sort. Perhaps it was not  
alien, but they were not taking any chances that  
someone might think so. Home laboratory equipment  
ran the necessary blood tests and in the rare  
cases where medication was indicated, Scully  
wrote the prescriptions herself. No one thought  
it odd. No one thought it particularly  
noteworthy.

Than again, no one saw what William Scully's  
immune system did to the bugs unlucky enough to  
attempt an attack. Viral and bacterial suicide  
was putting it mildly. It was not the fact that  
he got sick that was the clue, it was the fact  
that he never stayed sick for long.

Still, there was no evidence that this was  
anything other than good genes.

In the end, they did the only thing they could  
do. They kept a close eye on their son and loved  
him. Ultimately, that would be the strongest  
weapon of all.

Ironically enough, everyone was so concerned  
about the child's physical makeup, they forgot  
about his soul. If essence was meant to rejoin  
the wheel of life, what was the greater purpose  
behind the selection of parent and child. Did the  
soul chose ? Was the selection of the new life  
predetermined even before the death of the old?  
Were Fate and Destiny intertwined across  
generations, butterflies flapping their wings in  
lives past so that the necessary souls would  
arrive in time to complete the next stage of  
their journey?

Did aliens have souls?

If they did, who decided which souls to send  
where? Who designed the cross-generational  
gameboard?

Which side were they on?

Was there one master planner, or merely a complex  
interweaving of choice and individual decision  
made before, during or after death? Does it  
matter? Do our failures or our successes in past  
lives drive us into the next? Are we the sum  
total, not just of our choices and experiences in  
this life, but the sum of all the choices we have  
ever made?

And how are we affected by the actions of those  
people and choices we left behind?

********************************************

William hated to see his mother cry. Whether it  
was at a movie, after an argument with his father  
or simply because she was chopping onions, tears  
in Dana Scully's eyes inevitably led to a  
horrified look and an offer of a teddy bear. His  
favorite. If that did not work, chubby baby hands  
would pat her gently in such a perfect imitation  
of his grandmother, that inevitably tears would  
turn to stifled giggles and baby William would  
quickly find himself hugged, then thrust into his  
father's startled arms so his mother could flee  
to the bathroom before she could offend childish  
dignity.

Loud noises terrified him. Thunderstorms sent him  
into screams of hysteria that did not stop until  
he was wrapped tightly in his parents arms. After  
it was all over, he would not let his father near  
him. He would bat his hands away with angry fists  
and cling to his mother, tears streaming down his  
face. Scully would simply looked helplessly at  
the shattered look on Mulder's face and sit down  
in the rocking chair by the fireplace. Oddly  
enough, William would watch his father as Mulder  
paced the room, and if he left, would cry as if  
his heart were breaking.

He enjoyed his mother's approval, a startled look  
of astonishment and brilliant grin would result  
every time he was praised. But if he loved his  
mother's approval, he lived for his father's.  
Everything Mulder did, William wanted to copy. He  
studied his father with wide, solemn eyes and  
while praise brought a cautious smile, failure  
would send him into an angry depression for  
hours and no amount of coaxing would get him to  
try again that day. As he got older, the toddler  
would angrily smash whatever it was that had  
frustrated him and run to his room and huddle in  
the closet until Mulder rousted him for dinner.

Any attempts to drag him out early sent him into  
screaming fits of self-directed rage.

Finally, after several exhausting weeks of  
reading every book on child psychology he could  
lay his hands on, Scully found Mulder huddled in  
the bedroom, tears streaming down his face. She  
had swallowed sharply at the self-loathing and  
guilt she had no idea how to combat. She had  
known it was going to be difficult. William  
terrified him. He was protective enough when the  
boy was a baby and all he had to worry about was  
kidnappers, cold weather and diaper rash. Now, as  
the child's personality started to emerge, he was  
convinced he would do something to scar him  
emotionally and permanently screw him up.

All she could do was laugh and say that William  
had inherited his intense personality.

A scuffling at the door caught her attention  
and she jerked, alarmed that William had crept  
out of his room without her hearing. The child  
reacted badly enough at her tears. How would he  
react to his father's? Mulder instantly wiped  
them away and tried to smile reassuringly, but it  
was too late. Three-year old William stood frozen  
in the half open door, blank eyes in a blank  
face. Scully started to go to him and was  
unprepared when William suddenly dropped his  
teddy bear and launched himself at his father. No  
gentle attempt to reassure with bribe or comfort,  
William slammed into Mulder's body so hard he  
knocked them both back against the wall and  
wrapped his arms around his neck in a  
stranglehold.

For one awful moment, Scully thought she saw  
Mulder's face turning blue. Then he wrapped his  
arms around the crying child and looked at her  
helplessly. Since she was a half step away from  
freaking out herself, she was not reassured, but  
did what every mother from the dawn of time has  
done. She pretended she knew what she was talking  
about.

"Looks like he just wants your attention,  
Mulder."

Mulder, predictably, took her at her word.  
Rationalizing that it was the personal failure  
that seemed to bother the child the most, he  
started taking William out every evening for  
walks in the park. Rain or shine, snow or slush,  
Mulder spent at least two hours with his son just  
talking to him. As they rambled, he told him  
stories. Elaborate fairy tales involving heroes  
and monsters. The kid was fascinated. He listened  
for hours. And despite Scully's original worries  
about nightmares, William never seemed to worry  
about monsters under the bed. She found out the  
reason why when her mother dropped in for a  
surprise visit.

It seems the monsters were all scared of Mommy.

Chasing Mulder off to shoot hoops, Scully and her  
mother had had a comfortable afternoon shopping  
and chatting while watching William chase  
imaginary dragons beneath the clothing racks.  
Back at home, Grandma was settling William down  
on the sofa for a nap when he had demanded a  
story. She started with Winnie-the-Pooh. Five  
minutes into the story, Scully had looked up to  
find her too silent son staring at his  
grandmother with a mixture of horrified disbelief  
and disgust. Then he had loudly demanded a *real*  
story. At a loss, Maggie had looked at Scully who  
had just shrugged and told her that Mulder  
normally did the story-telling. She was  
beginning to wonder if this had been a bit of a  
mistake when William, in an effort to point out  
his grandmother's misguided ways, launched into a  
detailed and obviously well memorized fairy  
tale.

Except it wasn't any fairy tale she had heard  
growing up.

It seems a certain ex-FBI profiler had  
appropriated certain X-File adventures as the  
basis for his version of bedtime storytelling.  
Scully had to admit, he had sanitized the  
events...a lot. It was also rather quickly  
apparent  
that the hero of the story was a certain red-  
haired princess named Katherine. (William  
whispered in an aside to his Grandmother that  
that was his Mother's secret identity but that  
she couldn't tell anybody). Maggie had just  
nodded gravely, her lips twitching as her  
grandson blithely explained how his Mother had  
saved the world.

Again.

Scully wasn't sure if she wanted to scream or  
howl with laughter. Ultimately, she almost ended  
up in tears. It seems William himself got to be  
the occasional endangered party of the story. At  
one point, he found himself locked in a castle  
tower high above the clouds. William had  
commented almost off-handedly that they were  
angry clouds, full of thunder and lightening.  
Aware of her grandson's phobia, Maggie had asked  
gently if the boy had been afraid. William had  
just looked at her, astonished, and told her  
that he didn't have to be afraid, because he knew  
that his mother-er, Katherine- would come and  
save him.

Scully had watched her son through a mist of  
tears and thought about the gifts you could give  
to a child. Somehow, Mulder had managed to give  
his son hope. Not that monsters did not exist.  
But that ultimately, no matter what happened, his  
parents would challenge the gods themselves to  
save him. That they would always come for him.

No matter the cost.

In a universe where they faced the very real  
possibility of this horrifying reality, Mulder  
was trying to give William the tools to fight an  
unimaginable future. Courage and hope, trust and  
love.

It was not the way she would have thought to give  
him those things.

She just thanked God that Mulder had.

Despite his almost obsessive devotion to the  
members of his family - both blood and honorary -  
William tended to regard other children with a  
complex combination of watchful suspicion and  
wariness. Not that he wasn't affectionate, but he  
seemed to have an almost instinctive fear of  
betrayal. When one of the others hurt his  
feelings, he just retreated into a silent ball as  
if this was to be expected. As a result, he had  
no real close friends even by age five, although  
every once in awhile he would tentatively reach  
out.

His intense nature seemed to come out under these  
circumstances and his parents watched sadly as  
William threw all of his love into the ring, only  
to stand uncomprehending as normal childhood  
inconstancy inevitably drew the other child to  
new playmates and he was left behind. On those  
occasions, it broke Mulder's heart to see his son  
just scuffing his toe and eyeing the new group  
dynamics with confusion. But if his father's  
heart bled for his pain, his mother was caught up  
in recognition. In William's actions, she saw  
again the courage of the father as she recalled  
admiring how he had reached out time and time  
again, only to be burned. And then finding the  
strength to reach once more.

She had wondered once if courage was a quality  
that could be passed on. Now she was sure of it.

He was generous with any toy except those he  
specifically identified with his parents and he  
jealously guarded these prized possessions. In  
fact, he jealously guarded his parents. Adult  
strangers were subjected to polite curiosity as  
long as they kept a certain minimum distance that  
seemed to fluctuate based on William's  
whim. Large men came under the most scrutiny,  
although Skinner was treated more with cautious  
regard than suspicion. Acquaintances and  
associates received an icy examination that had  
Mulder biting his lip as the corners of his mouth  
twitched and his eyes flipped from mother to son.

William could stand his ground stubbornly enough  
if he thought he was right, but he rarely did. In  
general, confrontations bothered him, especially  
noisy ones and if his parents were in the room he  
would inevitably sidle up behind one of them -  
usually Mulder - and hide behind an adult leg.  
That was unless that argument was directed at  
either Mulder or Scully. If the person then made  
the critical mistake of being both angry and  
coming too close, Mulder usually ended up  
grabbing for a hissing and biting pint-sized  
dervish as it attacked without impunity.

Surprisingly, that rage was never directed at  
children. Instead, if his parents interacted with  
other children, he would watch silently from the  
sidelines as if he had been rejected. He would  
occasionally try to insinuate his body between  
the usurper and whichever parent was in question,  
but he never struck out physically. Which is why  
Mulder and Scully were so floored the day they  
were called by the elementary school at the  
demand of the angry parents of another child  
six-year old William had just put in the  
hospital.

Social workers and police officers were all in  
evidence by the time they arrived, and between  
the hysterical screaming of the other child's  
mother and the tearful incoherence of the  
playground teacher, no one was making any sense  
at all. From what little Mulder could make out,  
three year old Jessica Travers escaped from the  
daycare yard at recess in order to visit her  
brother. She apparently found William's jacket  
and had taken a toy spaceship from his pocket  
when he wasn't looking.

Mulder had winced at this point, because the  
spaceship was one of the few toys that William  
guarded with his life. According to the teacher  
who had gotten the story from two friends of the  
boy currently in surgery, Jessica had protested  
giving the toy back and William had pushed her  
down. Hearing her screams, Kurt and the other two  
boys had run over to see what was going on. Kurt  
had accidentally stepped on the toy, breaking it,  
and that was when William had gone ballistic.

According to the police, the doctors were  
strapping three broken ribs, taping a busted  
nose and putting a cast on a wrist that may  
have broken when the boy fell on it. Maybe.  
The doctor had sounded doubtful and Scully's grim  
look had backed up his diagnosis. Of course, as a  
forensic pathologist, she had been in a position  
to see more defensive wounds and injuries than  
the ER doctor. The bruises came from fists, but  
the ribs had been broken by repeated blows from a  
sneakered toe. The playground teacher confirmed  
that William was found kicking the screaming boy  
while the other horrified children stood and  
watched.

Anyway you wanted to look at it, William had just  
delivered one of the most brutal beatings Mulder  
had ever seen one child give another.

He could easily have killed him.

And it looked exactly like that may have been  
what he was trying to do.

Mulder met Scully's disturbed look as she stood  
talking with the police officer in charge of the  
case. It was obvious that William had done  
exactly what they said he had done. However,  
neither of them felt that they were hearing the  
whole story. Whether it was parental disbelief or  
years of listening to witness testimony,  
something did not add up. The two boys who had  
been with Kurt were sitting about twenty feet  
down the hall on the left, a social worker  
carefully listening to their tearful stories and  
soothing the distraught parents.

The same parents who were sending venomous glares  
toward Mulder and Scully. He suspected it was  
only the presence of the police officers which  
kept them from being more vocal. The police had  
already forcefully threatened the parents of the  
injured boy with ejection from the hospital if  
they did not keep their voices down and under  
control. Attempts to verbally harangue Scully had  
been met with the same treatment. Relief came in  
the form of a doctor who took them off into a  
side room to discuss their son's injuries and  
prognosis.

Five minutes later, a sullen faced William  
Scully was brought out of one of the offices  
by his own police escort and led down the hall  
to the knot of adults waiting in the hall. The  
officer checked when she realized that the other  
two boys and their parents were still in the  
hall, then seemed to shrug to herself and the two  
made their way down the suddenly silent stretch  
of hallway. Mulder was angrily working himself up  
to lambaste the officer for submitting William to  
this kangaroo court - preferably before Scully  
started chewing strips and left nothing for him  
to sink his teeth into - when the officer looked  
up and met his eyes with real regret.

Mulder closed his eyes and worked on controlling  
his temper. She had made a mistake. A mistake his  
son was paying for, but that's all it had been.

Unfortunately his protective impulses needed some  
convincing.

The officer stopped in front of a couch not ten  
feet from where Mulder was standing and silently  
gestured for William to sit. He did so without  
protest and then huddled into the corner, eyes  
glued to the floor. Taking in the defensive  
posture, Mulder winced again. Six years old and  
he looked like a juvenile delinquent with his  
sullen air and tense set to the shoulders.

Mulder suddenly twitched and when he turned his  
head he found Scully glaring at him. He widened  
his eyes in surprised inquiry. She jerked her  
chin toward William in exasperation and Mulder  
eyed his offspring dubiously, then looked back.  
Was she kidding? William had inherited his  
mother's tendency to snap and snarl when  
wounded. Did she honestly think this was the  
best time? More exasperation. He guessed that  
she did.

Mulder suddenly realized that the officer  
standing next to Scully had been watching the  
silent exchange with interest. Considering the  
charges, Mulder knew exactly what the officer was  
probably looking for. He sighed. Walking over to  
the couch he debated with himself for a moment,  
then sat down and stretched out his legs  
casually. Leaning back, he let his eyes roam the  
far wall, all the time keeping a sharp look out  
with his peripheral vision.

William lasted about ten minutes, then his eyes  
started darting toward his father. He appeared  
to take no notice of the others in the hallway.  
Just his father. Finally his eyes stayed a moment  
too long and Mulder was able to capture them  
briefly.

"Did you get hurt?"

Blue eyes darted away, "No."

Mulder nodded slowly, then glanced casually at  
the side of William's face. The boy had  
steadfastly refused to say anything about what  
had happened.

"You do realize that your mother will find out  
what really happened, don't you?"

He tried for light humor, but the smile faded  
instantly when William's shocked gaze shot  
instantly to where Scully was standing, then back  
to his father. There wasn't a shred of disbelief  
in that gaze and although there was a split  
second of hope in those blue depths the over-  
riding emotions seemed to be a mix of  
desperation, confusion and fear.

Every law enforcement instinct he had ever had  
went on the alert. Scully's expression hardened  
instantly as she read the changes on his face and  
he saw her turn her head to say something to the  
police officer beside her. He looked at her  
questioningly for a moment, then slowly toggled  
the mike on his radio and spoke into it.

Within minutes, a tired looking thirtysomething  
woman in jeans and sweatshirt came down the hall  
accompanied by a third police officer and a woman  
who was probably a social worker. A small towed-  
headed boy who looked to be no more than five or  
six trailed along behind them. A tiny doll of a  
girl with strawberry blond hair and pixie-like  
features rested in her mother's arms. Mulder had  
the sinking feeling that this was Jessica  
Travers.

The girl was clinging to her mother like a monkey  
and rested against her sleepily as the police  
officers explained that they were hoping Jessica  
might be able to tell her side of the story. The  
mother looked doubtful, but gently prodded her  
daughter awake. The girl blinked big cornflower  
blue eyes and stared at the female police officer  
as she gently tried to ask the girl about what  
had happened. Whether she was tired or just too  
young to track the conversation, the girl was  
unresponsive until the police officer got to the  
part about taking the toy spaceship.

The girl's mother suddenly sighed and rubbed the  
bridge of her nose.

"What have I told you about taking things that  
don't belong to you Jessica?"

From the tone of her voice, this was a  
longstanding problem and it gave unexpected  
credibility to a tale Mulder knew was false, but  
had no clue how to disprove. Jessica's mother  
gave her daughter a hard look.

"What did I tell you would happen the next time  
you took something that did not belong to you?"

Jessica's lower lip quivered and suddenly her  
eyes were filled with tears. The cops looked  
embarrassed, the parents sympathetic. Suddenly a  
belligerent voice came from low down on Mulder's  
left.

"Leave her alone. She didn't do anything wrong."

Mulder turned his head to see his son scowling  
at Jessica's mother. Will's eyes darted towards  
Mulder, then back to the floor. He mumbled the  
next sentence almost inaudibly.

"I gave it to her. She didn't steal it. Leave her  
alone."

Mulder glanced up to find all three cops staring  
at William speculatively. Before anyone could  
say anything, Jessica's head snapped around,  
obviously orientating on William's voice. She  
squirmed so suddenly that her mother reflexively  
put her down before she could fall. The little  
girl ignored her and zeroed in on her target.

"William!" she shouted happily and raced toward  
him on sleepy legs.

She stumbled over Mulder's feet before he could  
get them out of the way and he grabbed for the  
back of her shirt. He needn't have bothered.  
William had lunged up out of the couch seconds  
before the disaster - from the look on his face,  
obviously familiar with this tendency- and  
Jessica crashed into his legs. Before he could  
move, the little girl had wrapped both arms  
around his right leg and was grinning up at him  
toothily.

Mulder sank back into his seat and regarded his  
son thoughtfully. This was not exactly the  
behavior of a boy who would knock down a three  
year old over a toy. Nor was it the behavior of  
a three year old who had just been brutally  
knocked down. So where did Kurt come into all of  
this - because something had set William  
violently at his throat.

Sudden movement beyond the adults caught his  
attention and he found himself looking at the  
two boys whose story was convicting his son  
of aggravated assault, and their parents. The  
officers were watching the parents for hysterical  
outbursts, so the next sequence of events caught  
everyone off guard. With a liquid grace  
momentarily at odds with his six year old frame,  
William twisted to place his body between Jessica  
and the two smirking boys and he snarled.

Cold eyes glared in deadly threat as Jessica  
peered around his legs and then huddled closer.  
The sheer menace in those eyes was chilling.  
Worse, it was familiar. He'd seen that look in  
Scully's eyes the moment before she fired the  
shots that sent Donnie Pfaster back to Hell. The  
possible need for that reaction made him want to  
throw up. Looking around the hallway, he saw that  
every single law enforcement officer was running  
through a similar list of sickening  
possibilities.

The parents of the two boys saw only the threat.  
Mulder turned his head to locate the girl's  
brother. He had moved up to William's right. Not  
quite to his shoulder. Mulder doubted he had the  
courage. He was shaking so hard his knees were  
knocking. But something was keeping him firmly  
planted close to William's side. Mulder had the  
awful feeling it was his sister.

Suddenly the boy's darting gaze met Mulder's  
and the sheer terror in those eyes had Mulder  
down on his knees beside him before he realized  
that he planned to move. His arm was around those  
trembling shoulders and when Mulder looked up to  
see William gazing at him, it wasn't jealousy he  
saw, it was relief.

William may have chosen the wrong way to settle  
whatever problem arose. They wouldn't know until  
they sorted everything out. But Mulder knew one  
thing for sure. Whatever William had done, he had  
done it for the right reasons. They would work  
the rest out later. Meeting William's gaze  
squarely, he nodded once and smiled slightly.  
William's eyes widened in wonder, then suddenly  
blazed with hope. His head snapped to search out  
his mother in the crowd and when he found her  
staring back at him with pride, his shoulders  
began to shake. Suddenly he had his arms wrapped  
around Mulder's neck and his soft plea was loud  
in the deathly quiet hallway.

"Don't let them hurt her."

The parents of the boys gaped, the implications  
still not lining up in a clear picture yet. It  
did not matter. The police officers were suddenly  
wearing cold professional masks and the social  
worker looked like she'd been clobbered with a  
two-by-four. Horror was etched on her face as she  
stared at the two boys she had previously been  
considering victims. She rather looked like she  
was seeing her worst nightmare.

She probably was.

Slowly, the story emerged. Jessica's brother  
stared at William with a painful mix of shame and  
worship as he explained that Kurt and his two  
followers regularly beat up the younger kids for  
their lunch money, their clothing or personal  
possessions. At least one child had gone to the  
teachers, but all that happened was a trip to the  
principal's office and a phone call to the  
parents. The next morning, they were back out on  
the playground and the child who complained was  
left to suffer the consequences of trying to  
follow the rules.

William had refused to buckle under and prompted  
by his success, Jessica's brother Andrew had  
tried to follow his example. Jessica had come  
over to visit and had been playing in the sand  
box  
when the three boys headed for her brother.  
William had tried to get Jessica back to the  
daycare playground but she had gotten upset and  
in an effort to calm her down, he had given her  
the spaceship. He had been standing with her when  
Andrew got cornered.

Andrew stood his ground and Kurt had started  
roughing him up. At that, Jessica had thrown the  
spaceship at him and gotten in a good hit to the  
back of the head. In fury, Kurt had stomped on  
the toy and then seeing Andrew's reaction to  
Jessica's tears had started in on the little  
girl. According to Andrew, the three boys had  
started circling William and Jessica and started  
pushing and shoving and then darting in to touch  
her. Kurt had started the other boys flipping up  
her skirt and grabbing at her.

At this point, Andrew started to cry. It was  
obvious to everyone from his broken whispers that  
he had frozen. He hadn't known what to do.  
William, he said, had taken several blows from  
all three boys, but had managed to stay on his  
feet. The problem was that every time he stopped  
to hit one of the boys, the other two would close  
in on Jessica. Finally Andrew had given them his  
new jacket and just pleaded with them to leave  
her alone.

Kurt had laughed at him and backed off. Andrew  
was crying openly now and everyone was standing  
around in appalled silence as he whispered that  
Kurt had ordered them not to tell anyone what  
they had done...or something bad would happen to  
Jessica. Maybe she would fall down a lot. Maybe  
she would wander out onto the road.

Or maybe she would just disappear.

Andrew looked up, his voice suddenly harsh and  
clear,"I believed him."

Mulder, Scully and the cops looked sick as they  
considered the fact that they believed him too.  
But no one else would have. Not the teachers. Not  
the principal. And definitely not the parents of  
an eight year old boy.

Mulder would have. And so would Scully.

But how many parents had chased monsters  
for a living?

It was after that threat, apparently, that  
William had exploded. And done his best to  
eliminate the threat once and for all.

Mulder wasn't sure which was worse.

The fact that his son had consciously chosen such  
a violent solution to a problem...or the fact  
that he could feel that he had no other options.

Or maybe the biggest question of them all...why  
hadn't he come to his parents for help?

Because no matter how angry he had been, William  
had known exactly what he had been doing.

Six years old.

Jesus Christ.

Mulder honestly wanted to believe that his son  
had simply been striking out in rage and taken it  
too far. Lashing out like the child he was at  
that which was hurting him. He wanted to believe.  
He truly did.

But he could not.

Because he had seen the knowledge in his six year  
old son's eyes that he had believed Jessica's  
life had been in danger...and he had been  
enraged.

But he had also been in control.

Or he had consciously chosen to lose control.

At six years old.

Christ.

They were going to need serious therapy over this  
one.

He could just see the counselor trying to  
explain that aggravated assault and attempted  
murder were not appropriate responses to  
blackmail and death threats from another child.

Fuck.

The son had inherited his mother's killer  
instinct without her set of values or her  
control. The worst part, was that Scully's  
control and values had been learned before the  
instinct was honed and developed. Could this be  
done in reverse? Was this even abnormal? Perhaps  
this was nothing more than the pragmatic  
ruthlessness all children possess brought out by  
an unusual circumstance.

And maybe he was rationalizing something he did  
not want to face.

Because for all his protective violence and  
ability to pull the trigger, Mulder had never  
possessed a killer instinct. He had killed, but  
always in the heat of the moment. Scully had  
been pushed to that place and he had stood there  
and done nothing as Skinner had coldly pulled  
the trigger. But he had never made that decision  
himself...had prayed that he never would.

William was drawn into himself their entire trip  
back to the house. He allowed his mother's  
discrete touch, but flinched slightly from his  
father. Mulder tried to find some way past his  
own hurt and confusion to let his son know that  
he was there for him, but in the end, all he  
could do was tell him that he loved him and that  
they were there for him no matter what. Only  
Scully saw the anguished looks of misery that  
crossed her son's face as he covertly followed  
his father's tall form with his eyes.

Like a half sized shadow, he trailed after Mulder  
for the rest of the week. Despite Mulder's  
repeated attempts to reassure him that he was  
still loved, the child just stared at him in  
misery. It was on the third trip to the  
therapist, William having again spent the hour  
ignoring the female therapist and watching his  
father, when the six year old finally blurted  
out an anguished,

"I'm sorry."

Startled, Mulder had glanced first at a relieved  
Scully, then back to William. The therapist  
gestured discretely for him to go ahead and talk.

"Why are you sorry,William."

Huge tears welled up in the boy's eyes and he  
whispered, "I'm sorry I made you hate me."

Instantly Mulder was on his feet while an aghast  
Scully just wondered how in the hell William  
could ever think Mulder would hate him. God,  
William was possibly the spearhead for an alien  
invasion and Mulder had still chosen to love him  
with every fiber of his being.

They had always known the risks.

They had always known that someday they might  
have to be the ones to destroy their son to  
save a world.

They had chosen to love him anyway.

There had been no other acceptable option.

Now she wondered if somehow they had failed. Had  
their vigilance come across as expectation. Did  
they drive too hard? Expect too much? Terror and  
anguish swirled through her, but she forced  
herself to remain in her seat and ignored the  
concerned therapist sitting beside her.

Please Mulder, she thought silently, Please find  
the right words to say.

Mulder knelt slowly on the floor in front of  
William until he was able to meet anguished blue  
eyes. William searched intense hazel eyes and  
found only what he had always found. Love,  
acceptance, pain. No hatred.

Scully could see the moment he believed.

Which was why the sad desolation that crept into  
his eyes was so disturbing. For a split  
second, a veil seemed to lift, and Scully thought  
she could almost see the structure of her son's  
soul. Whatever answer he was searching for, he  
didn't find it. Pain twisted his face as he held  
his father's eyes captive with his own. The words  
were a direct cry from the heart.

"Why wasn't it right?"

Mulder just stared, floored by the complex  
emotions dammed up behind those six-year old  
eyes. For a split second, fear lanced through  
his chest and he wondered who...

and what...

...lived inside the body of his son.

The child had leaned forward to grab hold of his  
father's jacket and tightened tiny fingers until  
Scully feared for the bones.

"Why wasn't it right?"

In that moment, Mulder let go of his conceptions  
of age, and let himself answer the question, not  
the boy.

"Because you cannot take a life just because it  
is convenient."

Scully heard the therapist gasp in horror.  
Without thought, her hand flashed out and made  
contact with the woman's shoulder. She realized  
only in afterthought that she had stopped her  
from interfering. The hard fingers digging into  
her shoulder kept the woman silent.

William's body stilled, gaze turned inward as if  
struggling to find understanding. Then his head  
tilted in mute enquiry. Again, Mulder answered,  
the beliefs of a lifetime dragged from his soul  
for a child's edification.

For his salvation?

Mulder met his son's gaze unflinching, and for  
the first time, his voice held judgement over his  
son's actions.

"Did you stop to ask if there was another  
option?"

Through her fingers,Scully could feel the  
therapist gearing up to protest that Mulder was  
treating a six-year old child like he was an  
adult. Scully wanted to agree, but then, the mind  
in that six-year old head constantly amazed  
her. And the child had made the decision...they  
needed to know why.

William was silent. Not in sullen resentment, but  
more because he did not seem to have an answer.

"Did you think we wouldn't believe you?"

William's head shot up and his denial was without  
hesitation. "No."

"Did you think we wouldn't do something to stop  
it?"

William mulled that one over for a moment," I...I  
don't know. I didn't..." he gestured helplessly  
as he tried to articulate his own confusion.

Mulder grabbed his son's eyes with his own, "Why  
did you do it, Will?"

William's voice was a whisper."I was afraid."

Mulder listened to the complexities of fear  
behind those simple words and then did the only  
thing he could. He gave his son the gift of  
honesty.

"Fear just makes us take the easy choice. It does  
not always make it right."

For a moment, Scully thought Mulder was being to  
obscure. How was a six-year old supposed to  
wrestle with the subtitles of a question that  
haunted fully-trained adult FBI agents? Then she  
realized that perhaps it didn't matter. For  
whatever reasons, William had actively taken on  
the burden of making that decision. He needed the  
rules that went with those actions.

All things happen for a reason.

It chilled her to the bone to think that this was  
a lesson he needed to learn.

The therapist was tightening like a bowstring  
ready to snap. Scully wondered how much more of  
this she would allow before she tried to  
interfere. She rather hoped the woman had the  
sense to stay in her seat...because Scully would  
not allow her to halt what was happening.

"How do you know it's the right decision?"

Mulder grimaced, "Sometimes you don't. Sometimes  
all you can do is weigh the options and try to  
make the best decision you can. Sometimes you  
don't know all the facts. Or sometimes, things  
are not what they appear to be. And you cannot  
make the decision to end another's life  
carelessly or because it's easier than finding  
another solution."

William scuffed a toe,refusing to meet Mulder's  
eyes for the next question "What if you make the  
wrong choice?"

Despite the negligent pose, Scully could see the  
muscles across narrow shoulders tighten as her  
son waited for Mulder's response. The ex-FBI  
agent who was still fighting some of his own  
demons sighed, " You apologize. You move on. You  
try to do better the next time."

William lifted his head, his voice soft. "What if  
it's so big, you cannot say you are sorry?"

The catholic in Scully wanted to say that there  
was no sin too great to be forgiven. But she kept  
silent. Because there were still things that she  
could not forgive. Because William did not want  
God's approval or forgiveness. He wanted  
Mulder's.

Mulder was silent for a long moment. How did you  
answer a question with no real answer? He  
supposed you did your best.

"It depends on the circumstances. Sometimes,  
there is nothing you can do. That's why you have  
to be so careful. Your actions can hurt people.  
There are some things you just can't take back.  
Violence usually has a way of getting out of  
control. That's why it is such a dangerous  
weapon, William because innocent people get hurt  
very easily. Even when you don't mean it to  
happen. Be very careful before you decide to  
use it. Or it will use you...and all the I'm  
sorrys in the world can't undo what you might  
have done."

William's face knotted up in sudden anger and  
frustration,and the words were almost shouted  
"But how do you know?"

Mulder just looked at him squarely," Do you think  
you made the right decision?"

Blue eyes dropped,"No."

Mulder's head tipped to the side,"Why not?"

A long moment, then a dejected whisper," Because  
you don't think it was right."

Mulder looked startled for a moment, then reached  
out a hand and cupped a tiny chin and turned it  
upward until he could meet William's eyes.

"Is my opinion good enough for you?"

Absolute trust and fierce loyalty suddenly blazed  
in William's eyes and his voice was sure, strong,  
unyielding in his belief in his father.

Just one word.

"Yes."

That said it all.

Scully caught her breath at the intensity. The  
very passion in that tiny body was terrifying.  
How could they ever keep him safe enough from  
himself?

Mulder smiled suddenly, a beautiful smile full of  
love, humor and acceptance. He ran his hand down  
the side of William's face and leaned in a bit  
closer as if sharing a secret.

"Then next time, come and ask me. We'll figure it  
out together."

Scully supposed that some women would be jealous  
of the astonished joy that broke over William's  
face, and the sudden desperate lunge to wrap arms  
around Mulder's neck. But it made perfect sense.  
William trusted his mother to save him from the  
universe at large.

He needed his father to show him how to save him  
from himself.

It seemed appropriate somehow.

The therapist appeared to be debating about  
whether or not to call her own therapist. She sat  
there in silence, stunned eyes on father and  
child. She turned a bewildered gaze in Scully's  
direction.

"Is he always like that?"

Scully smiled in affectionate contemplation and  
laughed.

"Which one?"

******************************

The next three years passed quickly and the  
family slowly regained it's footing. Mulder's  
fairy tales quickly grew more complex as William  
suddenly began questioning everything about them.  
Out of nowhere, William would corner one or the  
other of his parents on points of duty and honor,  
right and wrong.

Oddly enough, for all his desire for his father's  
approval, he tended to use Mulder as his source  
of information about people and motivation, but  
his mother was the final arbitrator of right and  
wrong.

Television shows suddenly ceased to be modes of  
entertainment and William would sit unblinking as  
he absorbed the issues raised in dramatic  
primetime. He had no patience with talk shows,  
instead, disturbingly enough, he preferred ones  
like the Outer Limits, with its weighty  
obsession with hubris, self-sacrifice and the  
potential of the human race for self-  
annihilation.

The truth was, that his very passion and  
commitment terrified Scully until she finally  
abandoned the notion that they were raising a  
normal child and began treating him as what  
he was...his father's son. Mulder smiled  
ruefully and given her a list of the books he had  
been reading at William's age. Scully had choked,  
then with a determined light in her eyes made a  
few changes to the list and headed off to the  
bookstore with credit card in hand.

Despite his recognition of his son's abilities,  
Mulder still remembered what it had been like  
growing up as a childhood freak. He was  
determined not to make his son feel the same  
cruel mixture of pride and shame. He was  
determined to make it fun.

Scully took a more pragmatic approach. William  
was always going to be different. Those abilities  
were going to lead him places they might not be  
able to follow. Worse, there were those who would  
take delight in seeing his emerging  
abilities...and seek to use them.

Mulder's eclectic book list suddenly became a  
structured curriculum designed to expose William  
to as many possibilities as practical, while  
satisfying the current demands of his curiosity.  
Literature was chosen with an eye to satisfying  
William's interest in right and wrong. Military  
history emphasized the human element of motive  
as well as strategy. Basic science set the stage  
for future studies requiring logic and rational  
thinking. Math,history,language and creative  
expression all were added to the bunch.

William never did go back to school. Instead, his  
parents arranged for his education at home, while  
using sports as a way of satisfying primary  
socialization skills. Additionally, sports  
allowed him to mingle without being obviously  
different. On the field or court, no one asked  
what book you were reading.

A side effect of Scully's self-designed program  
of study was the fact that it did not specialize.  
Because of the sheer number of subjects he was  
taking,in any one core subject, William was no  
more than two or three years ahead of his age  
level. He was often able to relate to children  
close to, if not exactly his own age. His  
intelligence, while appearing aggressive, did not  
immediately stick out like a neon sign.

People see what they expect to see. And people  
judge abilities by the limits of their own  
knowledge. An English professor would expect to  
hear quotes from certain books, a history  
professor would expect knowledge about specific  
battles. When they don't hear these things, the  
general reaction is to gauge the speaker's  
knowledge by their own educational track.

What most people failed to realize was the sheer  
breadth of that education ... and the forays into  
fields of interest that did not come up in common  
conversation.

His entire education was designed for  
misdirection.

So William was happily unaware that he was  
especially unusual. And so were the watchers.  
They already knew that IQ tests were misleading  
regarding someone with a photographic memory. And  
IQ tests quantify a person's grasp and common  
knowledge against others of his same age range.  
The fact that William's math and science skills  
were not tipping the mark at university levels  
was a horrible disappointment to the men in the  
shadows.

Of course, everyone was going to get a bit of a  
surprise when all of that seemingly unconnected  
education eventually came together.

Take his ability to use a computer for example.  
The Lone Gunmen and Scully had specifically sat  
down and torn apart the science of computers,  
broken it down into it's component pieces, before  
deliberately assembling a course of skill sets  
rather than a progressive track with specific  
languages. William could count in binary and  
hexadecimal as easily as base 10, his problem-  
solving skills emphasized the ability to convert  
word problems into mathematical solutions but the  
relatively slow pace of his mathematical  
education limited the types of problems he had  
the tools to solve. He understood concepts, not  
practical languages,he could take a computer  
apart in minutes to find a voltage fluctuation,  
but he barely knew how the operating system  
worked.

In all cases, he specifically lacked the few key  
pieces which would eventually allow him to put  
it all together.

So people could be forgiven for not realizing  
that he was a third of the way into the  
equivalent of a four year computer engineering  
degree, a diploma in networking and graduate work  
in Hacking 401.

William had all the tools, the logic, the router  
maps, the understanding of digital circuits...but  
the bits were learned in such a manner, than he  
was missing the final pieces that would allow him  
to apply those skills in any effective manner. To  
outsiders, William appeared to know enough about  
computers to use the word processor and surf the  
web. His practical abilities were really no more  
than those of any other child his age.

Luckily.

Scully had no doubt that once he knew what he  
was doing, he had the potential skills and  
intelligence to be very...effective. But she  
wanted him to have a solid grasp of ethics  
before he acquired those skills. She also wanted  
him old enough to understand potential  
consequences before he brought himself to the  
attention of the world at large.

So he played hacker-designed video games never  
realizing that he was being taught how to locate  
information, hide his tracks, crack networks and  
evade security. As far as he knew, it was just a  
game.

And that was just computer science.

They were six months into the new curriculum  
before Mulder finally acknowledged what Scully  
had known all along. They were not just training  
their son, they were forging a potential  
weapon. He had just sat staring at the stars  
until nearly dawn. Remembering no doubt, the  
costs of a war he had never had any choice but to  
fight. That decision had been made for him the  
day his sister was taken. Perhaps even before  
that.

It was a decision he had sworn he would never  
make for his own son.

Unfortunately, time and the shadow men would take  
that control out of his hands. Scully watched a  
bit sadly as shooting hoops was gradually  
replaced by martial arts classes, introductory  
mountain climbing and flying lessons. William did  
not care. He gloried in the time spent with his  
father. But Scully knew that Mulder mourned time  
spent for no practical purpose other than the  
fact that it was a skill he had been proud of. A  
love he wanted to share with his son.

Another casualty of war.

And so it went. Day by day, moment by moment,  
the small things which make up a lifetime slipped  
by in the stream of time. But Fate is an  
interesting concept. If who you were is directly  
responsible for who you become, if the choices  
you made were the pivotal events which ultimately  
led to your new place on the wheel of the  
universe, then must your new choices be made in  
ignorance?

What then, is the meaning of life?

Is it a test? A chance for the soul to make  
decisions unmarred by the knowledge and regrets  
of the past? Or does the universe actually care  
about the ultimate outcome? And if the knowledge  
of past choices would directly affect the choices  
of the future...

...would the universe do something about it?

On a sunny August morning, William Scully eyed  
his cousin Matthew from a pitcher's mound. It was  
a friendly game, a yearly tradition of a family  
long weekend tradition. The line drive that  
shattered his protective helmet and connected  
with his forehead was a simple accident.

Such a small thing upon which to rest the turning  
of the fate of mankind.

A coincidence.

Fate, in the aspect of the universe, reached out  
a metaphysical hand...and made a choice.

As the pain exploded across his forehead, William  
Scully screamed as sympathetic echoes reverberated  
across time, collided...and meshed. The weight of  
the past thundered into the future with all the  
inexorable weight of entropy. His ten year old  
mind unprepared and uncomprehending, William  
retreated, pushed aside by the drives of his soul  
as it reached eagerly to reclaim past identity.

William has a brief second to note the panic in  
his parents' faces, to reach out to capture one of  
the tears slipping down his mother's cheek, and  
then William Scully was torn from his place in  
the universe and sent careening into the  
darkness.

William Scully passed out. And somewhere between  
a heartbeat and his next breath...

...Alex Krycek awoke.

End Part 1, Round The Wheel Again: The Rebirth

Coming Soon: Part 2: Second Chances 


End file.
